


here in the infinity, a choice

by faorism



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, In Which Sora Double Collection Continues To Be The Creepiest Part of Kingdom Hearts, Introspection, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Missing Scene, Mostly Gen, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faorism/pseuds/faorism
Summary: As Sora collects his fragments in the Final World, he hesitates over one.





	here in the infinity, a choice

**Author's Note:**

> the fragment collection section creeped me out while playing, especially when i came across this fragment (who is located near the center of the grid). my wariness only increased knowing that you can't get all the fragments and your reward for collecting as many as they let you is more HP. i needed to work it out through fic. and of course i couldnt help throwing in a little destiny trio because why the hell not.

One of the fragments crouches in a sliver of space barely wider than his body. The walls at either side of him are tall, casting a deep shadow in the alcove even though in this empty bright whiteness, light doesn't quite work the way it should.

The fragment is down low but still balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet—ready. His body wrings tension into every joint as he prepares to peek around the corner. Or maybe he's waiting for something to pass. Maybe he knows what he will see, knows exactly what awful danger lies around the bend. Like he can't help but pause for just as long as he can before he signals the friends at his back to move forward, calling for them to fight or flee, asking them to trust his judgment. Here, of course, there is nothing behind the fragment because Donald and Goofy are… not here. There is nothing. Sora is not—

No one should look so prepared and unprepared at once. It feels weird that Sora was ever that serious. It feels weirder still that Sora can't even guess when this expression might've crossed his face. It could have been yesterday or last week or four months ago. He doesn't know.

Sora can't tell how long he kneels down in front of the fragment, watching. He knows he literally can't watch for "too long" because time doesn't work here. (Too long doesn't exist in infinity, right?) Well, he watches for awhile—longer than maybe he should—because the fragment doesn't blink. Sora sees him breathing with thin sucks of air, so this fragment is on repeat like the rest. His fingers move too, swaying by millimeters to help keep balance. But he doesn't blink.

Sora stares as long as he can to be extra sure, but eventually he always blinks, instinctively, expecting his eyes to water up. They don't, and they won't. Sora blinks anyway because it is too creepy not to.

This fragment creeps him out in a way the others hadn't. For the others, Sora settled for touching their shoulders quickly to absorb them, or running into them if that was the only way to reach them, or jumping high to graze the bottoms of his fragments' shoes. He feels like he's done this collecting before (when?) but it was still kind of fun. Sora likes how many of him are smiling. Sora laughed hard himself as he swung across long series of poles, knowing Tarzan would have been proud.

He doesn't laugh at this fragment. Can't.

He doesn't want to touch it either.

There are so many fragments left, and Sora knows deep down that he will not be able to capture them all. He is bound to keep the very important bits: his joy, his humor, his optimism, his love of his friends, the way his cheeks dimple when he smiles, how Kairi's hand fits perfectly within his, the heat of his lips pressed against Riku's… Those can't change, because all else is built on this foundation. But there is more beyond this core of himself, and Sora doesn't know what will be abandoned, but something will be. Sora is leaving this final world as less than the himself he was yesterday night, the Sora who slept curled between Riku and Kairi in the old treehouse, warmed by their bodies and with the tangy taste of paopu kisses on his tongue.

Sora will be less than that Sora, but he figures that's okay: not too long ago he went to sleep for a test and woke up weak from failure and weakened from the edge of darkness Riku saved him from. Whatever else he loses now, after this sleep, it will be worth it for another chance.

It has to be.

He will rebuild himself again here in this sky with neither up nor down. He will find his way back to his friends, and he will stand with them and fight and fight and fight and win. He will find his place by Riku and Kairi's side again, and for them he will secure the peace needed to relax in each other's arms without the threat of a megalomaniac universe-ending evil dude hanging over their heads.

He will gather himself from the pieces his death(?) shattered from him, but Sora probably doesn't need this specific fragment. The one crouched—anticipating. There are other fragments, so many others, hundreds of others, that he can absorb first before this world ejects him. He wants to never think about whatever terror keeps the fragment's eyes held so hauntingly wide. He doesn't want to ever be the Sora that needs to be so scared, not ever again. Doesn't want to have that fear look so routine on his face.

Doesn't want to hide behind corners.

Doesn't want to touch him.

Doesn't want to _be_ him.

Doesn't want to be alone cowering in alcoves.

Doesn't want to be alone… can't be alone… and like… this fragment can't be as good as the other because he is alone and scared so he's worth less than the others and—

(" _You don't really believe that._ ")

Sora's hundred and forty-third fragment disappears as quickly and quietly as the others had as Sora grasps one of the fragment's anxious hands within his own. He feels no different—and isn't sure it that's a good thing or not.

  
  



End file.
